A Crazy Dream

About a year ago I bought a beautiful restored house that was built in 1860. It has twelve-foot high ceilings, wood floors, plenty of nooks and crannies and a lovely porch. Not just that, but the history behind it is fascinating; it sits in a lovely neighborhood right across from a very old cemetery; my neighbors are fantastic; and it is a five minute walk to my office.

I must admit: I fucking love this house. As I have been living here the past year, however, one thought has kept popping into my head. This house is fantastic. But there is one thing that would put it quite literally over the top.

Now, before I tell you what that thing is, I’ll be the first to admit that this idea is utterly outlandish. Indeed, it is one of those thoughts that you don’t really want to tell anyone, except perhaps after you’ve had quite a few drinks and want to laugh at yourself and your crazy ideas. But I just can’t get rid of this thought. It’s like a stray cat that you feed a couple of times. It just keeps coming back; and when it does it gets harder and harder not to keep feeding it. So I’ve decided to take that cat in permanently and care for it. I am going to admit that I have this crazy idea. And I am going to see what I can do to make it come to fruition.

So here goes. In short, there is one thing that I want to have in this house, one thing that would make this historic beautifully cared for house a palace, one thing that I just can’t help imagining hanging on one of my walls. What is that one thing? A painting by Van Gogh.